


i wanna fuck away all my fear

by laurelsalexis



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Choking, F/M, POV Alternating, Post Episode: s02e17 The Noose Tightens, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: A lot of things are a bad idea where Alice Cooper is concerned and yet, he’s always right there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hi. This is basically just an excuse to write porn but there is _some_ plot to it.
> 
> For this, Alice's serpent tattoo is on her hip & FP's is smack in the middle of his chest (per Skeet at Rivercon). Also, making Skeet's scar in the middle of his chest FP's. I always imagine FP's tattoo to be rather large and it's my fic so we're rolling with that. 
> 
> Title from When You Break by Bear's Den.

It’s his day off.

Not that it feels like it with everything going on but at least he doesn’t need to put on that damn uniform that definitely makes him look the town idiot. But he’s serious about making sure that things get better and if working at Pop’s is going to make that happen he’s all for it. 

If he could stop getting rid of bodies that would be even better.

He’s not entirely sure if the mess with Alice and the kids is actually going away properly. They found the car and the owner got the car back. The body should be gone by now, leaving only teeth behind. He got rid of his clothes from that night and washed his Serpent jacket ten times over to make it sure it didn’t smell like anything questionable. 

The last thing he wants is to go down for this. 

That morning as Jughead rushed out the door he filled him in about what happened at Alice’s house with Chic and Darla, mentioned a few of the younger Serpents there to help out. Even managed to squeeze in Alice’s very broken door and her genuine thanking of him. 

F.P. resists the urge to ask if he even checked if the door was unlocked. Not that he got to ask many questions at all as Jughead rushed out the door mumbling something about wanting to have time to see Betty before school.

That left him there,  _ thinking _ . 

If the worst thing to happen is Alice is out of ten grand...well, the Coopers can definitely afford it.

Part of him wants to call Alice and actually make sure she is okay even if it definitely is a bad idea. A lot of things are a bad idea where Alice Cooper is concerned and yet, he’s always right there. As if there’s still that fucking gravitational pull towards her that got him into trouble when he was no older than his son. That ended in heartbreak and he likes to think he knows better now.

He doesn’t. Not really.

It’s more than just Serpent loyalty and he knows it. 

A twinge of guilt finds him as he thinks about Alice but not his actual  _ wife _ . The wife who left him but the circumstances around that were complicated. Putting it lightly. He even thinks about actually calling Gladys and talking to her. All of his updates about her come from Jughead and he’s talked to his daughter. Just not his wife. As if they are a divorced couple who can’t stand to talk to one another, even for the sake of the kids.

It’s his fault. 

There’s definitely something to be said about the fact that he keeps swinging between the two of them. That whenever he thinks of Alice he thinks of Gladys and whenever he thinks of Gladys he thinks of Alice. 

He decides against calling either of them. 

It’s better that way. 

Fate has another idea in mind when there’s a knock at the door. He’s never expecting anyone and he thinks the knock would be far more frantic if it is Serpent business gone south. 

When he opens the door to reveal Alice on the other side, his blank expression turning into a smirk all too easily, eyes falling to take in that appearance of hers. He notices just how much she’s unbuttoned that snakeskin print shirt of hers and how good her tits look, the red of her lips, and darker eye makeup that makes him think of when he saw her in the Whyte Wyrm. 

She looked hot that night, too.

He doesn’t say anything but rather, he moves to the side so she can walk in, noticing just which way she turns. He gets rid of the gum all too easily because really, he doesn’t need it anymore. Not when she’s looking like that and reminding him of the times when they were teenagers. Things are different now but some things remain the same.

Like the fact he’s pretty much thinking with his dick and not with that brain of his. 

What’s new?

He watches as she takes off her jacket, kicking the door behind him shut, eying her up and down in a way he didn’t dare to do often. She’s still hot as hell and he’s still got it bad for her. Especially when she turns and looks at him with a smirk of her own. He vaguely wonders if she’s as confident as she seems but he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t ask where that perfect Northsider suburban mom look of hers went. 

There are no bright colored sweaters that cover every inch of her or those glasses either. Even if he can admit the glasses kick up some naughty fantasy where  _ he’s  _ definitely the one being punished. She’s not wearing any dumb little pin she no doubt got as a gift from Hal since he’s the most boring dude on planet Earth, which is saying something given the Northside is just a breeding ground for boring old white men. 

“You know, half the damn park probably saw you walk in here.” He says, taking a step closer, seeing if she’ll actually make the move or chicken out. 

Alice shrugs, unbuttoning another button, the black lace of her bra exposed. “I’ve been coming around more lately.” 

“Not looking like that.” He licks his lips as she becomes all too distracting. No part of him pretends he isn’t staring at her exposed tits and thinking about how it be to suck on them, to feel them in his hand, hell, he’d take them around his cock, too. He’s not picky. 

“Are we going to do this, F.P.? Or are you just going to stare at my tits and worry about what the Serpents think.” Her tone has an edge to it as she takes a step forward, closing any last distance, reaching out two fingers to run along the length of his torso. 

“I’m going to stare at your tits and wonder why you have any clothes on at all. Old Alice would have kissed me by now. Losing your edge, Princess?” 

Alice rolls her eyes instantly. “Shut up, FP.”

“Happy to oblige.” 

It doesn’t matter who makes the first move when he’s kissing her for the first time in far too long. Her back ends up against the wall and his hands are working those damn buttons of her blouse to expose her skin. Her hands are running along his abdomen and her nails scratch against him, causing him to moan against her lips. 

He pulls back just enough to pull the shirt off of his body, her looking at him, eyes casting down to the Serpent tattoo in the middle of his chest, covering that scar of his he got when he was a teenager. She was with him when he got it, even did some shitty patch work before he broke down and actually went to the hospital so he didn’t bleed to death all over the floor her bedroom. She traces a finger along the lines of the snake and he feels the shiver cast up his spine, memories flooding him that he doesn’t have much time to deal with.

He wants something else

That something is made perfectly clear when he drops down to his knees in front of her, undoing the button of her pants. Black. A nice touch. As if she’s slowly sliding into who she used to be. It’s the last thought he has as he tugs them off her hips, pulling the black lace of her panties, that she obviously wore for his own benefit, with them. 

“Off.” He demands, licking his lips as she kicks off the fabric, her heels in the process, leaving her there before him. He’s got a good visual of her tattoo, the mark that makes her ever the Serpent. F.P. wastes no time in spreading her legs apart, kisses placed along her thigh, nipping at her skin with his blunt teeth, a thought to leave a mark. He sucks at the skin then, thinking he needs to, needs to leave her a lovely little reminder of what exactly the pair are doing there together. Proof he is there and that husband of hers is not. No one else at all. 

She wants to be fucked and he’s just the man for the job.

“F.P.” She half moans, half scolds, a whiny desperate little sound as her fingers grip at his hair, a harsh tug. 

“Patience.” He says it just to be difficult, so he can torture her just a little. It’s the first time in twenty some odd years he’s had her like this and he’s not wrecking the moment. He wants to savor it and make her tremble above him, make her cum as many times as he can before neither of them can move anymore. He wants her fucked out and raw like he used to love to do when they were teens sneaking around. 

He can practically hear the way in which she rolls her eyes but she manages to keep quiet for the moment. Rather than speaking she pushes his head towards her dripping cunt more, easily able to gather just how wet she is, how much she wants this. 

A leg winds up hooked over his shoulder, the scent of her as striking as ever. The first swipe of his tongue is everything. It’s that first moment to tell him that this is really happening and is not a dream. There he is, running his tongue along her, hearing that first little whimper of pleasure. It’s him, on his knees for her, the one to get her off, to make her cum, to have her fingers tangled in his hair it almost hurts. 

He loves that.

He loves those little sounds that start slipping out from her as he does his best to work her over. Careful moments, leaving no part untouched, hitting those little spots he knows drive her mad. It may have been a long time since he last had her like this but he’s never forgotten about Alice Cooper. 

In any way. 

That clit of hers remain untouched for the moment, arm moving around her, flesh of her ass gripped by his hand, giving a squeeze, holding onto her as much as she is holding onto him.

She tastes heavenly, like he remembers, like he swears he can stay there forever and doesn’t care who seems him down there without a care in the world but making her fall apart all over his mouth. 

He can hear his name fall from her lips. His actual name. God, he hates it but then there’s her, the way it sounds as it is a moan, the way she only pushes his head further, the way she grinds that perfect pussy of hers against his mouth, it makes him forget about that damn name of his. 

“If you don’t get on with I swear to God…” 

She doesn’t have a chance to finish her threat as he finally gives her clit some attention it desperately needs, hand not filled with her ass slipping two fingers inside of her, a slow tease that only becomes quicker with the way his tongue works against her. He’s sucking, needy, desperate, needing to feel that orgasm shake through her. 

He half wishes he was lying down so she could ride his face, take the pleasure for herself, what she wants and how she wants it. He’d happily be pinned beneath her grinding down on him until she cums. 

Always had a thing for that.

His head tilts back just sightly and he pulls her so she’s closer, so she can get what she wants and he can take what he needs. He needs this. God, he wish he could see her face. The way her mouth drops out and that dazed and hazed look she always gets, the way her cheeks flush and she’s trying her hardest to not cum just yet.

It’s the slight quiver of her thighs that only pushes him further into her, to lick and suck, to barely catch his breath as he cannot help himself in taking what he wants. It’s her. He wants her so damn bad that he can barely help himself.

“Fuck, F.P.” She murmurs, slipping out slowly, “Just like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

The sound of her swearing is all too perfect, the way she grinds herself against his mouth. He’s too far lost in her to actually care about how much he aches in his jeans. He’s hard, throbbing even, the pulse dull in his mind as he swipes his tongue along her in ways he hasn’t gotten to do in so fucking long. With anyone, even. He loves this. The way he can lick and suck, how she’s so wet he can feel it on his lips, his tongue, through the beard growing on his face. He only grips at her tighter as she does him, keeps her steady, fingers fucking her harder, faster, the slight curl hitting that spot, not wasting anything on her. 

“Forsythe.” She whispers, lower, that sound she gets when she’s all too close, too lost to worry about being  _ Alice _ . Even more of a tell over the way her back barely against the wall is the only thing her up. She’s relying on him. In more ways than one. 

He doesn’t hold back. Rather, for everything she gives him, he returns. It’s the way his hand smacks against her ass that sends her over the edge. She god damn shakes, tugging at his hair so hard he swears it’ll rip out, jaw on the edge of aching for relief, but that taste of her is something he savors. 

His ministrations become softer, slower, savoring every last moment. 

Her fingers move from his hair and he releases his grip from her, resting himself back on his heels, looking up at her, sucking on his fingers just for the lewd image of it. She’s set off that pretty little perfect Northside Cooper and he loves it. Even as he aches behind his jeans, desperate to fuck her. He wants to be inside of her so damn bad he can barely stand it, but if there is a sight he wants to take in it’s that one.

“Up.” Alice orders, yanking him up with a forceful grip on his arm. “We’re not done.” 

“On with it then.”

She wastes no time in undoing his belt, pulling his jeans and boxers down enough to grab at his cock. It’s hard, throbbing, desperate for her touch. The touch that is just as teasing as he was. Her grip is light, not even enclosing around him entirely, rather the touch feather light, just enough to feel something. 

Payback.

“I want you to fuck me.” Alice tells him, moving so she’s standing against him, barely enough room for her teasing strokes that only make him need more. “Right here. Right now.” 

He swallows as he looks at her. Eyes falling down to her lips, the smear of her lipstick from kissing him prior, hand finding the edge of her hip, right around where her tattoo is. He runs his fingers along the snake, the one he was with her when she got, the one that is still there after so many years. It brings a sense of pride that she hasn’t gotten rid of it even if she likes to pretend she’s not a Serpent. The fact that she’s there tells him something else entirely. “I don’t think I quite heard you.”

She smirks, giving him a squeeze, firm but not painful, better. He’s leaking and desperate, so fucking desperate he almost quits the game entirely. “I can go find someone who can listen and fuck me at the same time.” 

Of course, the thought makes him jealous instantly. 

Her intention. 

His grip on her hip is rougher, hoping it’ll leave a mark. She doesn’t pull away so neither does he. “You won’t.” He’s too confident. It’s not untrue, even so. “You came to me. You could fuck anyone you wanted and here you are, with my cock in your hand, telling me to fuck you.” 

“And you aren’t doing it.” 

She’s right about that. His lips find the edge of her jaw, nipping at her skin, hand moving to her neck, gripping her, holding her there, thinking about marking her there, too. He’s always had a bit of a territorial streak. He wants everyone to know what is his. Perhaps not accurate there, not accurate ever, but the urge is still the same. 

But by then she’s stroking him in earnest, with that twist of her wrist that is just right, in return he fucks himself in her hand. 

“Beg me.” 

She scoffs, instantly. “I don’t need to. You want me.” 

“I can get off with a handjob just as well.” Not that he wants to, mind you.

Alice studies him for a moment, stepping backwards, carefully over the clothes, sitting herself on the edge of the table in the kitchen. “Do you remember, F.P.? The last time you had me on a table like this?” 

He does. Of course he does. There’s a soft breath let out to where she’s standing between her legs, spreading them apart so he can get a proper look at her. He pushes the rest of her shirt off of her shoulders, removing that bra of hers, not caring for all of the pretty decoration. He wants to see her like that, in all her glory, right there on his table where he eats. “Might need to refresh my memory.”

She’s smiling, in that sweet yet scary was, all Serpent. “C’mon, Old Man. I know you do.” She places the palm of her hand on his tattoo, lightly raking her nails down the image. “After I did my Serpent dance and you were so jealous with those guys leering at me.” 

“It wasn’t just the looks.” 

“So, you weren’t  _ just  _ jealous.”

“Made a bet, who could fuck you first, break in the new girl.” He hears things like that from time to time. How it goes. He can pretend up and down that there aren’t some of the more dirty aspects to certain life and dynamic between the men and women. Hell, his own sliced the tattoo off of Penny. But back then it made his blood boil in another way. As if Alice was some pretty little prize to be won. 

“You won.” 

He leans in, pulling her towards him so she’s at the edge of the table, looking down at her, running his fingertips along her chest. “Didn’t make the bet.” A truth, not something spoken to just keep the moment going forth. “Wanted you long before that. Fucking you as an act of rebellion on your parent’s kitchen table was just a bonus. Knowing the other guys couldn’t have you, well, not my fault they were too slow on actually pursuing you.” 

“Do it again.” Her voice is sultry, taking his cock in her hand again, lining him up to where she wants him. “Fuck me. Right here. On this table. Cum in me, F.P. You never could resist before. Don’t tell me twenty-five years has softened you.” 

There’s a slight narrowing of his eyes, knowing that she’s ticking off all his little boxes, while getting exactly what she wants. 

She does get exactly what she wants when he thrusts into her with one swift movement. He’s not particularly kind but she doesn’t complain. 

He gives them both a moment, just a moment, before he’s pulling her towards him and suddenly everything feels as just it should. There’s a small part in the back of his mind that thinks of all the negative consequences but the way she feels around him matters so much more. His lips find hers and he kisses her, just as not so kindly as he’s fucking her on the table. The way she’s kissing him and he’s kissing her in return, the way they move together like it hasn’t been twenty five damn years. There’s a whole mess of their lives between them but fucking her so intently is the only thing that matters and he is taking it for what it’s worth.

Her lips move down to his neck, feeling her suck at his pulse, his hand gripping down at the table for leverage, her legs wrapping around him as she moves into him as he does her. 

The table is hitting the wall steadily, shaking papers and dumb knick knacks no one really needs nor do they know where the fuck they actually came from. One hits the floor and it just makes him smile, the memories of their teen years hitting him hard. It had taken him a good hour to actually assemble the living room so when her dad came home it didn’t look like he’d been fucking Alice all over the damn place. 

It didn’t work and that’s about where the good memory ends. 

“Harder, F.P.” Alice demands, holding onto him tighter, her perfect tits pressed against him, lips now by his ear, teeth tugging at his lobe. “C’mon, I know you can. You used to love seeing if you could make me scream so everyone knew who I was fucking.” 

Not like it was a secret, anyhow. He doesn’t say that, rather his forehead rests against hers, looking at her. The dark makeup mixed with the aging lines around her eyes. She’s still as hot as the last time he had her on a table. “Don’t close your eyes.” It’s a command of his own, voice rough, breath heavy. “You aching to cum again? To scream?” He begins, putting more force behind his movements, moving from her slower, only to rock himself against her, over and over. “Hal don’t do it for you?” 

Her gaze narrows at him. “Don’t, F.P.”

“Don’t keep fucking you or don’t bring up that husband of yours. You’re not with him, are you?” 

She should have a witty comeback but she doesn’t, she just moans. “Maybe I’m just taking pity on you.”

“If showing up tits out in the middle of the day is pity.” 

“Net time I’ll wear nothing.” Her moan is louder, especially as he flicks at her clit. “I need, oh, I just…” Her words string together into nothing coherent. 

He doesn’t feel much different, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep some semblance of composure. “Tell me. What do you need, Alice?”

“Don’t stop.” She leans back, bracing herself against the table, a hand finding her nipping, rolling it through fingertips. “Just like that.”

She falls apart first, for the second time since she knocked on his door, holding onto him, onto herself, letting her back arch as she tightens around his cock. Her mouth falls open as she makes certain to look at him, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones. “Come on, F.P. Cum, I want to feel it.” 

There’s only a passing moment before he is doing exactly what she wants. It’s not for her, though. It’s for him. He feels the pleasure build up to such a high that he can’t help himself. “Fuck, Alice.” It’s loud, echoing through the trailer, feeling him lose his control, spill himself inside of her, feel his breath catch. 

His grip on the table only tightened, pulling her roughly to him for a kiss. 

“I always did like that Serpent side of you.”

She smiles, one genuine, thumb stroking against cheek where she’s cupping. “I know.”  

He pulls out of her and takes a step back, she slides off of the table and grabs his hand before walking back to his bedroom, leaving the trail of clothes behind them. 

“We have all afternoon.” 

The weight of the bed feels different with someone in it. He’s laying on his back, Alice on her stomach as she looks up at him, legs up in the air. Almost feels like they are teens again. He has her hand in his own, feeling the cool metal from her wedding ring. His is off somewhere, ignored for the time being.

The fact that they are still married sits on him, somewhat, knowing that it can bring complications. He’s been burned before but it matters none, now. Not when he feels that post orgamsic high that makes him feel better than anything else could. Especially when it’s Alice. 

They’ve been lying there in silence for a good twenty minutes. His head is against the pillow as he stares up at the ceiling and aimlessly plays with the band of her ring like he did in the diner. He thinks of where they were and where they are now.

She married Hal. He married Gladys. They each had a couple of kids. 

But his marriage fell apart and well, she’s all too clearly in the business of keeping secrets from her husband.

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

He doesn’t have those kind of answers and fuck, if he actually wants them. 

“Betty asked me to sign a permission slip so she can get a Serpent tattoo.” Alice says almost too casually, glancing up at him.

He glances down at her, can see the hesitation in that if he’s trying to hide it. “How’d that go over?”

“How do you think it went over, F.P. She’s hell bent on joining. Probably just for Jughead.” 

“We all saw the dance.”

Alice rolls her eyes. “That you didn’t stop.”

“Neither did you.” He returns. “And she’s  _ your  _ daughter.”

Alice rolls her eyes. “I told her she couldn’t do it.”

“If she wants one she’ll get one.”

“I know.” There’s a sigh of defeat. “She’s my daughter. What if it was Jellybean?”

“If she ever gets up on that stage I am dragging her out kicking and screaming.” It’s one of the only reasons he is thankful she is with Gladys. He misses her more than he can explain but he can admit it’s safer for her elsewhere. 

“Let me be there for that.”

“Sticking around then?”

“Maybe.” Her voice is sweet as she says it. “I  _ am  _ from the Southside.”

He has a feeling in his gut not to trust that, not to trust anything she says in regards to the Southside. So, he doesn’t, but he cannot deny there is a feeling of hope that maybe things will work out better than they did before. He lets go of her hand as she shifts closer, her index finger running along the covered scar of his chest. 

“I still have no idea how you survived this.” 

“I’m pretty damn hard to kill.” 

Her chin rests on him, looking up at him, while alternating with eyes on the serpent tattoo. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t stab me.”

She smiles. “No, I meant, for everything. I know things have been...complicated.”

“Is this an apology from the mighty Alice Cooper?”

“Don’t push it.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He sounds like he might actually mean it. “We were kids and you clearly chose the right path.”

“Did I?” 

“Yes, Ali. You know you did. All our lives have bullshit complications but you have good kids. Chic’s a little weird but that’s probably just genetics.” 

She stiftens slightly. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” He tries to recover, but whatever nerve he’s hit is hit regardless.

“You always mean it.” 

“You’ve met Jug, right? Kid is dramatic as all fuck.” 

That gets Alice to laugh. “Reminds me of someone, Mr. Giant Serpent Tattoo in The Middle of His Chest.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alice.”

“Of course not.” She sits up a little, tracing the snake of his chest. “Did Betty tell you anything while she was here?”

F.P. shrugs. “Just why she was avoiding you at all costs.” 

Alice rolls her eyes. 

“Girl knows how to get what she wants. Reminds me of someone.”

“Well, she’s at home now.”

“Until her next teenage rebellion.” The kids are only in their second year of high school and he still has to actually get Jellybean  _ through  _ high school. If they have problems now he can’t imagine later. 

“As long as she doesn’t end up pregnant or arrested.”

“She could end up pregnant  _ and  _ arrested.” Maybe not funny, but he does smile as he looks at her. 

“Don’t even speak that into the universe.” 

“They’re good kids. They’ll be alright.” 

“F.P.” She lowers her tone, shifting her gaze away from him. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“This is nice.”

For some reason, he doesn’t think that’s what she wants to say but he’s not going to ask. There’s always a small bit of fear that makes him just not want to know. “Well we’re not fighting.”

“Yet.”

“ _ Yet _ .” He confirms with a nod. 

F.P. moves so he’s now lying on his side, shifted down some so he can look at her, fingers brushing through her definitely messed up curls. “You kept your tattoo.” 

Alice gestures to where it rests on her hip. “Of course I did.”

“Of course.” He mocks.

“It didn’t seem worth removing.”

“Hal never asked?” He questions, skepticism in his voice, touching finding the tattoo again. He always did love it. Loves it now as he sneaks glances at it. Loves that even in moments when she runs from everything none of it really matters since she’s right there. 

“I never listened.”

“That’s surprising.” 

“Gladys?”

“No way in hell I was going to remove this even if she did ask. I’m a Serpent and I’m not ashamed of that. I wasn’t back then and I’m not now. I fucked up along the way but It is what it is.” He truly is content with his choices. 

“I’m starting to learn that.”

“Took you damn long enough.” 

“Shut up, F.P.” She whispers the words affectionately, versus everything else, scooting so she’s closer and kissing him. It’s gentle, something to savor, with the way she makes it so she’s there and close, her hand gentle on the side of his neck, falling into it.

He kisses her back, as if he would do anything else, leaving his own touches far more gentle. It’s lazy like they have all the time in the world and can stay in his bed forever. There’s a soft moan that escapes, finding that desire is too easy of a thing around her, the want to be with her again resurfacing. He never did seem to get enough.

Her leg slips between his, arm moving around him, bringing him closer. She stops the kiss, taking a moment to look at him, fingers stroking softly at the best of his neck. 

It’s far more intimate than either intend. Part of him feels he should pull back or hell, say something to ruin the moment. He’s good at that.

He doesn’t. 

Rather, he swallows as he looks at her and wonders how it took them so long to find their way back when they’ve been so close. 

So close yet so out of reach.

“I thought about this.” Alice whispers, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“When?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, rather nuzzles her nose against his, something she liked to do when they were teens. “A few times. Usually if I saw you. Betty’s room looks right into Archie’s. I always knew when Jughead was there and sometimes, I’d look out, see you.”

“You could have come said hi.” 

A soft laugh escapes from her. “I would have just insulted you.”

A knowing smirk slips across his lips. “I would have liked it.” 

There’s the unspoken knowledge that what is happening now could not have happened before. They were both married and in decent, if not good, depending on the time, marriages. Simply want couldn’t change anything. 

“This is a long winded way of saying you missed me.” He’s cocky enough to say it and for once, there isn’t fear that she’ll deny it. Not now. Not when they’re like this. 

She slowly moves against him, a need moving through her. “I did. I do.” 

“You do?” He whispers against her lips, desperate to be close to her. 

“I do.” She says again. “I need you, your cock.  _ Please _ .” 

A word so rare he doesn’t have the heart to challenge it. Rather he guides himself into her. Far slower this time, around wrapping around her, bringing her so she’s flushed entirely against him. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her, light kisses pressed against her heated skin, letting them rock together, slowly. 

A long, drawn out moan comes from Alice, short gasp, pushing herself against him as much as she can. 

F.P. can count the number of times he’d had this feeling in his entire life. He is almost as uncomfortable as it is comfortable, almost searching for a way to break it. It’s easier to distance himself when they are at each other’s throats, in a far more figurative sense. But now, there with her, he feels everything down to his very core.

He attempts to focus on the way she feels around his cock. Good, great even. Slicker than before, a mix of them both filling her, giving him a slip that makes it all the more better. She’s perfect around him, hot, needy in the way she grinds down against him, yet, soft in the way she breathes in his ear. 

Alice pulls back first, just enough so she can look at him, creating a distance between their faces but not their bodies. “F.P.” She whispers, biting down on her lip, barely able to keep her eyes open from the pleasure. “Put your hand around my throat.”

“Fuck, Alice.” Out of all of the things that she says it has to be that. He has no objections. Never does. It’s usually not at a moment like this but nothing about this is normal. It never is. There’s a slight shift of them both, sliding her so she’s more stable, his hand coming from around her until it’s on her throat. He keeps it light, firm, but nothing too real. 

She moves against him faster, meeting him with each roll of her hips, legs moving so she’s around him. “Harder.” 

He gives it a moment before there’s a slight squeeze to her throat, mimicking the motions, a far harsher way. Not like out in the kitchen but enough, so that he can feel the added pleasure course through him, through them both. The vibrations from her moan can be felt against his hand, her hand closing around his wrist, keeping him from moving it away.

Alice’s head moves back down against the pillow, arching herself up into him, grinding up against him.

He squeezes at her throat again, letting himself fall into her like he sees fit. “I forgot how much I love you like this.” He really does, just the look of desperation on her face, the way she can’t help but feel the pleasure. They played at this game back in high school. Rougher even, sometimes feeling as if they had to be like this  in order for it not to get muddled.

It got muddled anyway.

It takes less time than before for her to clasp around him, tighten, feel the pleasure course through her. He lets her shake and quiver beneath him, mouth opening as the orgasm ripped through her. He lets go at just the right moment, losing his last control, spilling himself inside of her. Again.

He pulls out, moving back so he can see her as she lays there. Her breath is heavy but she’s sated,for the time being, at least, raw and completely fucked out, flushed in all the right places in all the right ways. She’s filled to the brim with his cum and fuck, if it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

She reaches for him before he can say anything, tugging him so he’s lying next to her, her head on his chest this time. 

He runs his fingers through her hair, letting the content feeling of her there with him wash over him. 

After a few moments of them both catching their breaths, Alice leaves over the edge of the bed to grab a plaid shirt thrown on a chair, putting it on as she pulls her hair from underneath the collar. 

He has to admit he does like the way she looks, still lying there, not interested in moving. She slips off to God knows where. The place is only so big, though, and when he knows she won’t leave in just that. She’s not going to give the neighbors a reason to talk about her. 

Not more than she already has. 

“Do you actually have anything worthy to drink in here?” Her tone is scolding in only a way Alice Cooper can as she has a bottle of beer in her hand, taking a sip of it, before passing it to him as she moves to the bed, sitting next to him, propped up on her knees. “Please tell me you did not give my daughter beer.”

He smiles, taking it from her, taking back a swig. “They drank all the non beer and Jughead had the last of the juice this morning.” 

“I’m going to choose to believe that.”

“Good.” 

She takes the bottle back from him, getting more comfortable on the bed, taking a proper look around. 

His eyes follow her carefully and he’s almost entirely certain that she’s judging. He doesn’t care. Not really. They both knew where they came from and well, this is it. A lot different in the 90s but at least he can say his relationship is better with Jughead than he ever had with his own old man. 

Not that it’s saying much given he was kicked out. 

Road he chooses not to travel down when Alice is peering at him out of the corner of her eye. “Betty is having dinner with Hal.”

“So, she and Jug are off getting laid.” He doesn’t even think before he says the comment, but he doesn’t really think that it’s exactly untrue. 

Alice swats him, smiling. “F.P. that’s not funny. I’m already a grandmother.”

“Pretty hot one if you ask me.”

“Forsythe.” It’s meant to be a scold but it’s impossible given the ridiculous name and the laughter attempting to not bubble up.

“They’re good kids.”

“Your son is in a gang.”

“ _ You _ are in a gang.” F.P. reminds her, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and rummaging for some pants. “Your Northside Ice Queen image doesn’t mean shit when you got that pretty little tattoo on your hip. Never got rid of it, did you? Came to the Whyte Wyrm that night looking like you did when you were seventeen. Didn’t even stop your definitely not so innocent daughter from getting up there and doing the damn dance.”

“You’re right.”

F.P. turns around, easily shocked, surprised he’s not actually gaping at her. “What?”

“You’re right. I know I haven’t been fair.” 

He doesn’t fight her because the last thing he wants to do is fight. Neither of them are officially sexually frustrated and he wants to keep it that way. For the time being. Until...until things go back to what they were when she goes home and back to her house. Something definitely feels up though, in a way he can’t explain. “What caused the change of heart?”

“Everything fell apart, F.P.” She says after a long moment of silence. “Not just now but ever since Polly got pregnant. Maybe even before she got pregnant and was running around with Jason Blossom.” 

He turns to find a shirt, shrugging it on before looking at her, unsure what to say. His hand that isn’t exactly innocent and he knew what would have happened had everything gone according to plan. He knew exactly who he was helping and why. “How is Polly?” 

Alice focuses more on the beer bottle than him, swishing the drink, not taking a sip. “I didn’t handle it right and she hates me for it.” She looks up at him, eyes glassy, swallowing back any real tears. “And Chic...I asked him to leave. My son, F.P.”

He moves to sit next to her on the bed. Some things are starting to piece together. He knows what it’s like to lose your kids. He got Jughead back but it’s been a while since he’s seen Jellybean. “You’re their mom. You’ll always be their mom.” It’s the best advice he can give. “No one has fucked up more than me, Ali, and Jughead still loves me. We’ve gotten closer. And Jellybean is going JB now.” 

Alice smiles at that, just barely. “If you didn’t name your kids terrible things they wouldn’t need to go by worse nicknames.” She claps her hand over his. “What if I don’t get them back?”

“Don’t talk like that.” He softens his voice, a frown coming across his lips. 

“What if you don’t get to see JB again?”

“Then,” he shrugs, unable to answer, knowing the truth is too painful. “I’d be crushed. I love my daughter.” 

Alice squeezes his hand, swallowing, barely glancing up at him. “Promise me something?”

“What?” 

“That you won’t hate me.”

F.P. isn’t exactly sure what that means but his instinct is to say that he could never hate her. Not enough for it to matter, at least. At most she hurt him, but that was a lifetime ago. He doesn’t have that energy anymore. “I could never hate you.”

Alice nods, inhaling sharply, doing away with the tears. “Chic isn’t Hal’s.” She whispers the words, looking up at him through her bangs, uncertainty everywhere.

F.P. looks at her for a moment, unsure if she’s telling the truth. He thinks he knows what she is trying to say but this is not something he wants to be wrong about. “Go on.”

She’s quiet for far too long, pulling her hand back, fiddling constantly with her wedding ring. “He’s...he is your son, F.P.”

There’s a moment where he is just quiet before he nearly jumps off of the bed and paces along the small open space next to the bed.  **His** son. He has more than one son. Chic is his son. His son killed someone. He got rid of a body for his family, his son, his...whatever the fuck Alice is. Twenty five damn years and...he turns to Alice, gaze sharp, face hardened, so angry he doesn’t even know where to start. “What the fuck, Alice?” 

That’s as good of a place as any.

“Twenty five fucking years, Alice? Then he killed someone in your house and you couldn’t tell me then? Or when he was fucking sitting there. When Betty was hell bent on living here because of him?” He’s firing off and he sees the way she nearly coils back into herself. He hates yelling at her but...he’s hurt. 

It’s that simple. 

He’s hurt.

Upon that realization he softens, a lot, running his hand over his face. He’s not going to lose any last composure he has. He knew of her and Hal fighting at Homecoming and clearly, he didn’t think too hard on it. They were drunk, in the Whyte Wyrm. That much he does remember but she was with Hal and he just...ignored it. Let it slide. Found a purpose in the Serpents and in joining the Army. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” He looks for his Serpent jacket, a few feet away from him, thrown casually over the dresser. He puts it on, hands clasping the edge of the cheap wood, not looking at anything, eyes shut as he swallows. It’s too much. He can’t process like this.

Not with her a few feet away watching his every move. 

“F.P. Let me explain.”

“No.” It’s too loud and too harsh. “You had years.” 

“It’s not that simple.”

He turns then, shaking his head. “It’s pretty simple to me. ‘Hey, F.P. it’s your baby but I want nothing to do with you so I’m going to give it up and live my fucking perfect life without you.”

“That’s not fair.” Her tone is meeting his in harshness, sitting up on her knees, looking at him the way she has for years. “You weren’t there.” 

“News flash Alice life isn’t fair.” He shouts, unable to do anything but. “You didn’t let me be there. You ran to Hal.” It stings, more so than he thought it could. “I can’t do this.”

“Where are you going?”

He waves her off. “Don’t let Jughead see you.”

“F.P.” She repeats his name a few times, growing a bit more desperate with each time. “F.P.  _ Please _ .”

It’s not until he’s outside and letting the door fall shut behind him does he feel like he can breath again. Only he’s burying his hands in his face and desperately pretending that everything is fine even when it’s not.

It’s really, really not. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I deliver part two as promised. It's technically canon compliant with those spoilers from the musical ep, if you've read them. Technically~

Alice hears the door to the trailer shut,  _slam,_ is a far accurate term and lets out a defeated sigh. Things are far more messed up than they had been between the two of them in a long time. An extremely long time.

The first time she actually spoke to him in twenty-five years was the night of the party for Jughead's birthday. She saw him through the window, even if she probably shouldn't have been spying, and it was like she just couldn't help herself. She couldn't. She never could. Not when it came to F.P. Some magical pull she hated but only resisted so much.

It's why she didn't bother speaking to him for so long.

Everyone knew of Fred and F.P. working together. Jughead had been around in the neighborhood when the kids were smaller. She knew of Gladys and her marriage to F.P., knew of Jellybean, could even manage to pry some details out of a young Archie who knew no better than to just answer the questions politely. 

Speaking to him was never much of an option, however, knowing that it was a rabbit hole she could not afford. She had to think of Hal, Betty, and Polly. 

Only when she saw him at that party things were steadily falling apart and what could go wrong? She was just going to tell him to go home, which she did. Didn't expect for him to call her hot or to bring up her Serpent past.

Still, with everything, it's less tense than she can recall it being since when they said their goodbyes a lifetime ago.

The worst part is she doesn’t even blame F.P. for being as upset as he is. She hid a child from him. One she wasn’t ready to raise, yet, one that became her biggest regret. Now,  _now,_ things didn’t seem better with F.P. or Chic. Betty seems to want defy her at every turn, and Polly isn’t even speaking to her unless she absolutely needs to. God only knows what Hal is up to with Penelope Blossom.

Everything is a mess.

She pulls F.P.’s shirt a little tighter around her, taking a moment to sit, feeling the warmth of the flannel around her body. There she makes the decision to see him in order to make things right and try to explain things he likely doesn’t want to hear. She just can’t have him seeing her as a monster who hates him, who hated him in high school. That’s not who she is and while her decisions throughout life have been extremely calculating she doesn't feel less for him. 

After a few moments of composure, she stands, buttoning up his shirt, and taking a moment to look at herself in the mirror so she doesn’t end up looking like the whore of the Southside. She moves from the bedroom to the kitchen where the rest of her clothes are scattered with his on the mess of a floor. An eye roll knowing that he just left in his fury and didn’t even think what Jughead would think when he got home. 

She picks up his clothes as she does her own, redressing herself decent enough. His clothes end up scattered on the bed in his room, Alice grabbing her heels on the way out. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly where F.P. disappeared off to. 

She drives the short distance to the Whyte Wyrm, leaving her stuff behind in her car, feeling a little out of place as she wears the plaid shirt, overlaid with her light jacket. She looks just as out of place as she walks into the dark bar and sees some of the Serpents looking at her. Nearly everyone knows her, personally and not so personally. Some of them grunt in disapproval and others give her nods that it’s nice to see her. 

She knows that her amends need to be made with everyone, not just the young ones. She can see some of them playing pool but neither Jughead nor Betty are to be found. Thankfully. She really does not want to explain what she’s doing there and certainly not her change of attire.

Since she clearly did not think that through. 

Her eyes immediately spot F.P. who is standing by the pool table, cue in his hand, watching as Byrdie takes her turn. Part of her knows that he doesn't want to see her and she should go home, give them both some distance. That had always been a major point of contention with them. Neither of them ever knew when to call it and cool off. They had so many heated arguments back in high school she wonders how they are even still able to speak to each other. 

Byrdie spots her before F.P. does, a gentle nod of her head in F.P.'s direction to alert him. He only looks for half a second before he turns back to the game, focusing on not focusing on her at all.

It's childish.

That move is the one that makes her walk on over to him without a care in the world. They need to talk, desperately. This is one of the things that cannot be left unsaid between the two of them. No matter how hurt he is. 

"Can we talk?" Alice asks, a little softer than she normally would. 

"Busy." He glances at her for only a second before brushing past her and walking towards the other side of the table. 

Alice isn't one to give up so she moves in front of him, disregarding anything he wants in the moment. "You can play pool later."

"We can talk later."

Alice doesn't find that acceptable, looking between them both. "Fine, if you won't talk I'll play." 

"You two are on your own. Got a job to do." 

"Toni can handle it." F.P. says, clearly not wanting to be forced into spending quality time with Alice. 

"Topaz." Byrdie calls. "Take my place." 

F.P. rolls his eyes and huffs, not loud, but loud enough. Alice definitely hears it. 

"Don't even start." Byrdie warns, though she's smiling. "I see that bullshit written over your faces and it's not happening." 

"Well, if F.P. would just listen for once in his god damn life."

"Nope." Byrdie shakes her head as she backs away. 

"Blossom." F.P. calls before Alice can get another word in. "Know how to play?"

Cheryl rolls her eyes. "I am a woman of many talents." She speaks as she walks on over, standing next to her girlfriend. "What is it in for us?"

"What do you want?" Alice asks as she eyes them cautiously.  

"Hmm." Cheryl looks at Toni.

Toni just smiles at her. "We'll get back to you." 

"We'll regret that." F.P. says but in the end, makes no objections. "You break." 

Alice stands a little closer to him, turning so her back is facing the girls, and she can look at him. Only he's not looking at her, because of course not. Why would he? He'd rather drag this whole thing out. "If we win you have to listen to me."

"That sounds like the opposite of winning." 

"F.P., please." 

He swallows, eying her carefully for a moment. "Take your damn jacket off, at least. You stick out more than Cheryl does."

She listens to him, pulling her jacket off, and setting it down on the stool. Only because does look a tad bit light in the darkened bar, standing next to F.P. who is wearing his own Serpent jacket. There's more to discuss between the two of them but she knows it's not the time. If she pushes him too far he will shut down on her and she will never be able to get through to him. Even after all these years some things about F.P. just haven't changed. 

Her eyes travel to where Cheryl and Toni are standing, talking amongst themselves, all smiles. A stark contrast to her and F.P. He's looking anywhere but her and she's doing her best to not look at him. She doesn't want to feel like she's in high school all over again staring at him because she couldn't help herself. 

She's grown so much and she can mostly definitely control herself. 

Their time together in the trailer suggests differently. 

F.P. takes a step away to get another cue stick for himself and upon his return he creates an all too wide distance between them. He does manage to look at her. It's brief at first. A stolen glance. But it's only a matter of seconds before he's looking at her again. It's lingering then. The wheels churn in his head, eyes travel down her torso, taking in the sight of the shirt she's wearing.

His shirt.

It's a little too big, definitely too long, and she feels a combination of exposed yet,  _comfortable_. 

The way his gaze burns into her doesn't help. She's doing her best to seem ever the confident Alice Cooper, no matter how accurate of a statement that is. It's difficult given everything that happened between them in the last hour. Before she told him that things were good and if she hadn't she'd be ever the comfortable and confident woman. 

She doesn't like feeling vulnerable. When she told Betty that she told Hal everything and wished she hadn't that was the truth. It's not Hal entirely. His judgement was ruthless and sometimes he had a habit of making her feel less than for her choices. Mostly, though, it's the idea that someone else knows things that she doesn't want them to know. Her hidden secrets that pull her past to light and make it feel like it was yesterday.

That's what happens when you never properly deal with things. Just bury them. 

The shaking of F.P.'s head is what breaks her out of her thoughts. Part of her wants to make a comment, somewhere between snide and flirty, but she doesn't. She used to know him so very well but the situation at hand makes her think otherwise. 

Toni leans over the pool table and breaks, sending the balls in every which direction, but none fall into the pockets.

"Scotch doubles." F.P. says.

"Like always." Toni replies, a smile on her face as she moves back to Cheryl's side. 

Alice watches, sees the ease, sees F.P. in his home. This bar is more of a home than anything else and she can see it. This is F.P. She likes it. She likes being there, with him, in the home of the Serpents, even if she half thinks he'd banish her to the Northside if she would actually listen.

She wouldn't. 

"Alice." F.P. says, taking a quick look at her, gesturing to the table. 

Before she can say anything, she sees him walk off towards the bar. She makes her move on the side of the table where she can still see him, barely paying attention. He is speaking to Byrdie about something or other and she wishes she had super hearing. She's distracted. It shows. The cue ball hits the other in which she's aiming for, only for it to hit the other end of the table, rolling back towards her, and ending up further away from where she's aiming. 

"Not a natural born  _Serpent_ talent, hmm?" Cheryl questions, a hint of smugness in her voice. 

"If you're here how far off from being a  _Serpent_ are you?" Alice questions, a hit of snark in her voice. 

"Further than Betty." 

"Okay." Toni interjects, a move to keep the peace, before she finds herself at the table to take her turn.

Alice wants to say she cares about the game or she's even paying attention. She's not. Rather, she's watching F.P.'s every last move. It's not subtle and she can feel the way Toni and Cheryl watch her that something is going on. It's something she wants to tell Betty herself, but she doesn't worry about that. Bigger issues at the moment. 

F.P. walks back over with two shot glasses in his hand, offering her one. "Tequila." 

"You're not supposed to be drinking." Alice isn't as judgmental as normal, just concerned, almost. 

"You're not supposed to be doing a lot of things, Alice." F.P. shrugs. "Blew it the night of the my not so retirement party anyway." 

"A wonderful night all around." The sarcasm drips from her voice, unable to help herself. "From my daughter stripping, to you not leaving the Serpents, to losing your sobriety that lasted ten minutes." 

F.P. looks at her as he takes the shot. Just for the dramatics of it all. "I know when to stop. I choose not to. There's a difference."

"Spoken like an alcoholic." 

"Oh, I'm sorry,  **Princess**." He emphasizes the world, low and harsh "Are my decisions upsetting you? I wonder what that is like." 

"Your shot." Toni says and the pair realize how much they are not paying attention. 

"Drink." F.P. tells her before walking over to the table.

Alice holds the shot of tequila in her hand. When she looks over at the pool table some of the balls are missing. Ones that the girls made into the pockets, no doubt. F.P. leans over the table to take his turn and just as he hits the ball in the pocket she takes her shot, resting the glass on the ledge. 

She moves so she's standing next to him, too close, brushing against him just to be that difficult. Her turn is better this time, hitting the ball so close to the pocket, yet, not quite making it in. She's competitive, naturally, but there, it's about something else. It's about him. Not a dumb game she hasn't played in way too many years. 

When she stands, she doesn't move from him, rather lets her arm brush against his side. "Don't call me Princess,  _Forsythe_." 

He's quiet for a moment, not moving, not glancing at her, almost as if he's frozen as a statue. "No, you never did like being called that, did you?" 

"No." 

F.P. turns so he's looking at her, standing closer. "But I don't think the kids would appreciate what you  _do_  like to be called."

She hates him. In that moment she hates him. She knows exactly what he's doing and if he thinks he is going to get under her skin he's wrong. Briefly, she glances back so she's looking at Toni and Cheryl. Thankfully, they're not much paying attention to either of them, far more focused on each other. She glances up, looking into his eyes, wanting to touch him but not doing so. She's keeping some composure and pretending that everything is fine. "You're one to talk." 

"Not ashamed." F.P.'s gaze shifts to the two teenagers on the other end. "Alright, Lovebirds. You're up." 

"You're one to talk." Toni says, repeating Alice's words without even realizing it, not skipping a beat, leaning on the stick that is definitely taller than she is. "You have lipstick on your neck." 

"And you're telling me now?" 

"Seduce Scarlet if I know my lipsticks  _and_ I do." Cheryl adds, a smirk as she takes her turn.

F.P. hand moves to his neck, smudging it even further. 

Alice ignores it, far more interested in taking the attention off of her. "How does the daughter of Penelope Blossom fall for a Southside Serpent?" 

"How does Alice Cooper fuck her daughter's boyfriend's father?" She beams as she asks. "No shame, either. Judging by the lipstick and the shirt." 

Toni and F.P just look at each other before looking at their respective partners.

"I've been there." Alice says, walking around the side of the table. She bends at the corner, eye on the ball. "The  _allure_ of the Southside Serpents. 

"How do you join?" Toni asks. 

"I joined first." F.P. answers as she makes a ball in the pocket, looking at Alice for a brief moment. "This was back when Alice still liked me."

The girls look at them with expectation, leaning on two stools. 

"My old man was a real son of a bitch. Kicked me out. I joined the Serpents but you see, Alice, not very good at being on her own." It's a jab, one he's too happy to give. "She joined right as I did. Got our tattoos together and everything." 

"Future of the Serpents." Alice adds, the soft smile gone as quickly as it appears. 

"Until Hal came and asked her out and we all know how that story goes." 

Toni raises an eyebrow at them both. "How'd you leave?"

"Another story for another day." F.P. says before she can say anything. 

"F.P. got me out." 

"Don't, Alice." There's a warning in his voice. 

In true Alice nature she ignores it. "He made a deal. Not a great one either. But he did and they let me go." 

Toni and Cheryl look at each other before Toni asks. "What was it?" 

"Go on Alice." F.P. gestures, irritation filling every part of him. "Since you are so fucking hell bent on airing all of your shit out. One secret after another like you haven't been acting like some Northside princess for the past twenty-five years." 

"You're not even listening to me." Alice bit back, turning to him, gaze as harsh as his. 

"Why should I? I can't tell if anything you say is the truth or shit you spew to make yourself feel better." 

"You know It's the truth." 

"Is it?" He questions, all too loudly, stepping towards her. 

"I would never -"

"What? Lie to me? Lying is second nature to you."

"You're no fucking better, F.P." She's trying not to yell but it's nearly impossible. "Get off this moral high horse. You've been to prison. You got rid of Jason's body."

She takes notice of the way F.P turns to look at Cheryl who has on a face that is true strength and not much else. 

"For my son." He shoots back, just as he focuses back on Alice. "Don't act like I'm off dumping bodies to get my rocks off." 

"I did what I had to do for  _my_ kids." 

"Yeah,  _your_ kids." He throws his cue stick onto the table. "You win, Topaz. I owe you one." 

F.P. doesn't stick around to hear a response from anyone. He storms off past the bar and up the stairs. She runs her fingers through her hair, sitting on the stool, wishing she had ten more shots of tequila in front of her. 

"Can you not tell Betty and Jughead about this?" She's defeated, in a way Alice so rarely is, but this is not something she wants to get out.

"Yeah." Toni nods and looks at Cheryl. 

Cheryl is the one who rolls her eyes just as she crosses her arms. "I want to be Carrie in the musical, and I know you  _always_ involve yourself in these things." 

"I'll talk to Kevin." If that's the price it's not that bad of one to pay.

"Then your secret is safe." 

Alice walks up to the bar and gets another shot of tequila, it poured out before she even stops at the edge. 

"Just go talk to him." Byrdie advises, sliding her another shot immediately.

"You know how he gets." Alice mutters as she takes a shot. 

"I know how you both get." She says, leaning over the bar top. "You're wearing his shirt and I have fucking eyes, Alice. Whatever is going on between you two is the same shit that happened when you were teens. You married Hal and he found Gladys. Got a couple kids out of the mix but the fact that you're here in this bar fighting with him tells me you care enough to fight. That's never been your problem. Quitting was." 

Alice hates that part of her is right and that anyone older than forty knows them all too well. They gave up on each other before and she doesn't want that to happen again. It seems to be about more than Chic. She drinks the last shot before she walks up the stairs and into the office. He's sitting behind the desk and looks kind of ridiculous. Stressed, like he's about to rip his hair out. 

She takes a seat in the chair opposite him. Not saying anything, not yet, not when she has to tread carefully or they'll just fight again.

She never did like fighting with him. Not true yelling and harsh insults. Banter is fun. Feeling like she could strangle him is not. 

"What do you want from me, Alice?" He asks after a moment. 

"See my side, F.P. I know you're angry," she tries again, sitting up in the chair, leaning towards the desk, "and I know I messed up. But, I never even intended to see him and after everything I didn't know how to tell you."

F.P. watches her, that cool face, where he's nearly impossible to read. "Hal know?  _Betty_?" 

Alice shakes her head. "Betty asked, I denied it. Hal doesn't want anything to do with him." 

"Figures." 

"Would you want to raise another man's child?" She bites at him, failing on keeping herself even. 

"I don't even get to raise my own kids." 

Alice's face fell at that. It was a true fact for her and Gladys. "He doesn't know.  _Chic_ , he doesn't know." 

F.P. nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Should I?"

" _Your_ kid, Alice." 

She sighs, heavily. "Do you want me to go?" 

F.P. stares at her, face softening. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“You stormed out.”

“I was mad. I  _am_ mad." 

"I know." Alice nods, standing up, walking around the desk, sitting on the edge. “I don’t want to go back to the way we were.”

F.P. scoots his chair back, just slightly, turning to face her. “No more lies.”

“That goes for you, too, F.P.” It's a two-way street. They're so close to making the same mistakes. He's right. They weren't all mistakes. She doesn't regret her time with him and she doesn't regret that Chic exists. She doesn't regret Hal, either. Not when they have Polly and Betty. Just like she doesn't expect him to regret Gladys. But if they have a chance they should take it. After so long it's what they deserve, isn't it? 

She doesn't know if that's the lesson she's meant to learn. She's not very good at learning them and gets all too stuck in her ways, but it feels right. For the past few years she's felt stuck in places she didn't know how to escape from. Steadily her marriage fell apart and it was harder to find who she was. 

She knows who she is. With each passing day it's easier to be more than Mrs. Cooper. 

Alice doesn't say anything when she moves to straddle him in the chair. With everything it's definitely a bad idea but she needs to feel close to him. It's a selfish desire she's all too inclined to take. Showing up at his trailer in the first place was selfish in its own way. She knew that she wanted him and knew he wouldn't say no.

His hands find her hips as she finds stability, fingers playing with his hair, looking at him, face close enough to his to kiss. She doesn't. She just lets herself breathe. 

"You're a good man, F.P." 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure." 

"You are now," she clarifies, trying not to fall down a slippery slope, "you do what's best for Jughead. You  _try_. You look after Betty, you look after me." 

"I'll always look after you. Even when you piss me off." 

"I should have told you the truth...all of it." 

His hand moves so it's resting on her cheek, thumb stroking against her smooth skin. "I'll get over it." 

"I'm sorry." She murmurs, softly, brushing her lips against his. It's one of the few times she's apologized to him and meant it. 

He kisses her. No more words needed. It's not all forgiven, nor is it all swept under the rug. She knows him well enough to know that he'll be pissed off about it again. Whenever it's the least convenient moment for them both. But for now, she's willing to accept it's okay. They'll deal with the rest later. 

Alice stands, remaining silent, not answering the raise of an eyebrow he gives her. She walks over to the door and closes it, locking it. The last thing she needs it to be caught. She walks over to him, fingers undoing her button, letting her pants drop to the floor. He gets the idea, undoing his own jeans, gripping at his cock. 

She finds herself on top of him again, moving his hand out of the way, replacing it with her own. She doesn't let him speak or ask questions. They've done too much of that in the last hour and she just wants to feel something. Him, specifically. To feel like everything is good. 

Doesn't hurt that finally being with him outside of not being with anyone ignited something inside of her she's not willing to let go of. 

Her forehead rests against his, breath heavy, not bothering to remove the rest of their clothing. She doesn't care. Not when she's positioning herself over him, sinking down on him, letting out a soft gasp. He still feels good, great even, making her feel even better. 

"F.P." She murmurs, rocking herself against him, slowly, just to feel him. There's a part of her that desperately needs to savor this. An inkling inside of her that things won't remain the peaceful existence she's created for them in the past minutes. 

His fingers make work of the few buttons on her shirt, hands finding her breasts, thumbs brushing against her nipples. He watches her, letting his own lips part slightly, a soft sound when she finally starts moving in earnest. His touch is rougher then, causing her to gasp, clinging onto him tightly. He's still wearing his jacket and there's something she decides she loves.

There's no doubt who she's fucking and where she is. 

She's not a stranger to even doing it in the bar. Never the office, though. Another place to christen. 

Alice takes his bottom lip between his teeth, palm against his clothed chest, firm, keeping him there. She's sensitive, in all the best and worst ways. It's less about getting off anyway, more about being able to feel close to him.

Not that it stops her from finding her clit, soft circles, rather than harsh, needy ones. The pleasure runs through her as she kisses him, softer than before, pushing herself against him, needing him. She needs every last inch of him otherwise she's feels as if she'll explode, lose sight of herself, of them, of everything that's happened since she first saw him months ago. 

There's nothing explosive about it, when she cums, right as he does. It's good, though, nice to feel him there, fisting his shirt, tugging, listening to their combined moans filling the office, only to be followed by their breaths. 

Her breath is heavy as she rests against him, climbing off of him, feeling a wreck. She likes it, though. Tired in the best way as she rests her head on his shoulder, breathing the scent that F.P. always is in, hand reaching for his own. 

She intertwines their fingers as they both catch their breaths, a soft smile, eyes closing, relishing in the moment. 

"What do you even do up here?"

"Things." F.P. answers as he strokes her hair. 

"Mm, elusive gang leader things." 

"Exactly." 

Alice can feel him smiling against her and it makes her smile. "I'm keeping your shirt." She tells him as she sits up, giving him a kiss, before climbing off of him. Part of her wants to lay there forever but the longer they are gone the more it'll be obvious what they were doing.  

She redresses herself as he tucks himself back in his jeans, standing, so he's once again taller than her. "The kids?"

"Not yet." She's not ready to have that conversation. 

F.P. nods and makes sure the room looks normal before they both walk down the stairs. 

Alice is still fixing herself when she walks off the last step and spots Betty. Her daughter who is mostly definitely not supposed to be there. She's supposed to be with her father. 

At first her eyes widen, only for a split second, before that narrow into that gaze that sends her right back into being her mother. 

"Elizabeth Cooper." 

"Mom." Betty says, swallowing back, shock written all over her face. 

"You are supposed to be having dinner with your father." There's no mistaking how annoyed she is as she walks over to where Betty is sitting next to Jughead.

"I didn't know you'd be here."

F.P. moves to stand near her, arms folded across his chest, not saying anything as he looks at his son.

"We are leaving right now."

"I'm not." Betty defies, per her new usual. "I belong here."

Alice has to try really, really hard to not roll her eyes. "You are not a Serpent and I don't care how much you want to live with your boyfriend it's not happening."

Betty looks over at F.P., a pleading look on her face. It's all too similar to the one she had in the trailer. 

Alice does roll her eyes then before looking over at F.P. "Why do you always look at him?"

"Listen to your mother, Betty." F.P supplies, though there's no missing the sympathetic look he gives her. 

Betty groans, at them both. 

"I'll call you." Alice whispers, glad F.P. actually managed to be on her side, and that Betty was actually standing up. 

F.P. nods, turning to Jughead and falling into a conversation with him as she utters Betty to the door, leaving the Jones men behind. 

"What are you wearing?" Betty asks, turning to glance at her mother.

"Enough, Elizabeth." Alice dismisses, really not explaining any of that. "Get in the car. You're driving." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original plan wasn't to continue this but here we are. Probably would have a picked a better title, but oh well. I've decided to kind of use this as place to dump all my season 2 related stuff, but obviously, make it a proper story. It's decently canon, atm, with some au elements. All depends on what they do with the Chic father thing.
> 
> Spoilers for the musical ep and some super, super minor spoilers for the promo for 2x19.

The guilt hits him hard and fast.  

It first comes while he's lying in his bed that night after coming home from the Whyte Wyrm. He's still processing everything that happened as he stares up at the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach. He can't sleep and that will only prove to further bite him in the ass when he has to work the next morning. It doesn't matter. None of it matters because he feels guilt. He's guilty for not feeling guilty only for the guilt to seep back in. It's some twisted cycle that only manages to irritate him more.  

He kicks the covers off of him and rolls, winding up on his side, looking at the empty space next to him. The space Alice occupied only hours before. He really tries not to think about Gladys and how things were left between them. It's not cheating. He knows that, deep down, _really deep down_ , but it still feels like he's doing something he shouldn't.  

She left him. 

It takes him an hour to rationalize it and to settle on the fact that she left him and they don't even talk. He talks to his daughter but rarely her mother. Even if she shows back up he's not entirely certain how it would go. Frankly, he doesn't want to know.  

But then, just as he feels like he might actually get some sleep, he thinks of the fact that Jughead is dating Betty. It doesn't help that Chic is his son, Jughead's  _brother_ , who also happens to be Betty's brother. It's weird, he doesn't deny that, but he doesn't want any of that to make his son unhappy. 

There's so much he's fucked up with Jughead over the years and he doesn't want to cause his boy any more pain. Not when he's worked so hard to make something of his life that makes him happy. Betty is an integral part of that. He can see it in the way Jughead watches her when he thinks no one is looking. It's a look of love.  

He can't mess that up for him. Not after everything else.  

That means something he doesn't want to face.  

By the time he wakes up, after managing to get some sleep, filled with dreams that were memories of past moments he never lets himself think about with Alice, Jughead has already left for school.  _Thankfully_. He doesn't need to lie. He trusts Alice that now is not the time to say anything to the kids. If he tells Jughead he'll tell Betty and Betty will storm off to her mother, and before they know it everyone will know in ways they shouldn't.  

It's not until after Alice leaves Pop's with their little encounter does he feel even more guilt seeping in every last inch of him.  

He's polite about it, somewhat, but mostly he is doing his best to create distance between them. A distance that has to happen and a distance that he could have created by actually talking to her. Talking to her would only made it far more difficult, he knows that. When it comes to Alice he wants so badly for things to be good between the two of them. In ways they never really had been.  

He tries not to look at her when she is wearing that damn snakeskin shirt that is unbuttoned a little too much with the black leather that makes her look ever the Serpent she once was. He isn't entirely successful. But he does manage to not comment on her being in the musical that he knew about from Jughead.  

It's the least surprising piece of news he's gotten in a long time. 

She loves musicals.  

Carrie is an odd choice if you ask him but he's not going anyway. Not when he knows he needs to do this, to create that distance between the two of them. It's a dumb logic but he knows what he has to do. 

He just wishes it doesn't make him feel like a teenager.  

* * *

"Wait, what?" F.P. asks, looking at his son with a look of confusion written all over his face. He's seated at the table in the small kitchen as he drinks a cup of a coffee.  

"It's probably just Ethel." Jughead shrugs as he puts his shoes on. 

"You're telling me the _Black Hood_ sent a letter but it's just Ethel because she wants Cheryl spot as Carrie? Cheryl Blossom that's staying with Toni?" 

"One way to find out." He replies before looking at his father. "How do you know that?" 

"I have eyes, Jug." It's clear as day neither Toni nor Cheryl actually said anything. A true shocking turn of events given he was sure one of them would blow it the second they could. Not that it actually makes him do anything to tell him, rather he wants to respect Alice's wishes to not tell them. Not yet. "Cheryl isn't exactly subtle."  

"Perfect for Carrie."  

"And you're not in the musical? No interest?" 

"I don't sing, you know that, Dad." Jughead says that like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Music is Archie's thing." 

"I was in the musical when I was your age." It's casual as he finishes the cup of coffee, getting up to rinse the cup out.  

"What? No way.  _You_?"  

"I had a band." F.P. says in defense. It's not that much of a stretch.   

"No offense dad but a  _musical_ is really different from a band with Mr. Andrews."  

"You only live once." F.P. shrugs, leaning against the counter, looking over at his son. "Wasn't bad. Kind of fun."  

"Which one?" 

"West Side Story." Which just about explained so much now that he thinks about it. Really hopes Carrie doesn't explain things.  

"I don't even know you right now." He whispers more to himself than anyone. Jughead stands, straightening his jacket, a thought dawning on him as he looks up at his dad, eyes narrowing, slightly. "Wait, Mrs. Cooper was in the musical."  

"I know. I was there." There's a lot of history there and his silence on the matter is almost a tell. He doesn't need to hash out details or even think about his own time. Far cry from the smooth sailing Jughead and Betty have. Though, he can admit that look Jughead has is one F.P. mastered all too quickly back in his day. 

"I am nothing like you." 

"I told you, you take after your mom." A good thing in his eyes since JB was a bit too much like him, still is, if their conversations tell him anything. "Don't worry, boy, you got some of that Jones blood. Otherwise you wouldn't have been so Hell bent on being a Serpent." 

"Have you talked to her?" Jughead asks, softly, as if he's worried what the topic will do. "Mom, I mean."  

F.P. stands up a little straighter then, not wanting to deal with that topic. He knows what his son wants. It is crystal clear he wants them back together and no matter how messy things are that won't change. "I think you're late for school." 

"That's not answer." 

He moves towards Jughead, turning him around, hands on his shoulders, pointing him towards the front door. He grabs the video camera and hands it to him. "Go zoom on Betty's face two hundred more times, kid."  

"It's not that often." 

"It's that often." He is smiling, though, finding it a bit endearing.  

When Jughead is finally out the door he picks up his phone and stares down at the screen. He would like to say his first thought is to call Gladys. It's not. Rather it's to call Pop and see if he can rearrange his shift so that he can go see Alice in that dumb musical. 

* * *

Nothing about Carrie goes according to plan.  

F.P. comes to despise the damn musical and can't wrap his mind around why anyone would choose Carrie to begin with. Part of it is definitely because he's a  _slightly_ bitter man. In the moment when he sees Alice, at least, speaking to Hal, looking happy, holding onto his hand for that brief moment it shoots him back to high school. That very same high school he stands in now and everything is still so... _messy_. 

Pushing her away worked. Clearly. He sees it with his own two eyes that she is definitely back to being with Hal. It was always going to work out that way. Things never seem to truly change between the two of them. He has no one to blame but himself. He plays the moment with Alice in Pop's over and over again. He should have said something else, told her how he was feeling, chased after her, even. He did none of that and she's back with her husband. 

It stings but he understands. 

That’s one of the problems. He's always understands. There's never been a question in his mind as to why she consistently chose to remain with Hal. He and Hal are polar opposites in every last way and on paper, he knows Hal is the better choice. Could be the man Alice wants and give her the things she needs. Betty isn't screwed up and barring that whole mess with Jason Blossom, Polly didn't seem screwed up either. A little odd like Alice can be but not screwed up.  

Not like himself, not like Jughead.  

He did a number on his kid. Not as bad as his own father did on him but enough. Enough that he goes off and joins the Serpents, slices tattoos off women, and probably a whole list of shit he doesn't even know about. A good kid, deep down, and good with Betty from all of the small moments he observed. 

He and Alice have never been able to figure out their shit. She was always so desperate to be in the light and he's always been fine being in the dark.  

With the Black Hood running through the town of Riverdale again he doesn't exactly expect for them to be able to figure anything out and the fact that she's with Hal. He doesn't like it, never has, never will, but it's something he can respect. A far cry from when he was a teenager and just wanted her all to himself no matter what.  

Definitely how he got her knocked up in the first place. 

He chooses not to stay. Not when his interest in the musical itself is mild at best and the only reason he bothers to show up doesn't make him feel the greatest about anything. Instead he finds himself moving through the crowd, wanting to actually get outside.  

"F.P." The voice of Fred Andrews is clear as day. 

He bites back the groan and turns to Fred. "Fred." 

"You going in?" 

"Uh," he turns, looking back at the door, "I was just going to get some air first." 

Fred nods, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. "Look, you alright?" 

"Yeah." He's not explaining it to Fred and he doesn't expect Fred to understand even if he did. Not as if they are actually all that close anymore. Doesn't even really remember the last time they talked. Before his arrest, probably? The whole mess is definitely against everything Fred stands for so he doesn't blame him. They lead different lives.  

Fred nods, the tension thick, and starts to walk in. Only to stop and turn back towards F.P. "You want to sit together?"  

F.P. wants to say no but he doesn't. "Sure."  

For the second time that night he finds himself walking through the crowds to see Carrie. He doesn't really want to be there but he's not about to explain to Fred the whole situation. Not when he's all too happy to keep everything with Alice to himself. It's not something that is happening and he just wants to forget it all. 

Or at least that is what he is telling himself.  

The seats are a few back from where he can see the back of Hal's head. He's never liked the guy and doesn't like the guy now. It is petty jealousy mixed with having some valid reasons to hate him. Not that Hal actually likes him back so it winds up all being fair in the end.  

When Hal gets up and goes off to wherever, probably to see Alice, he turns his attention towards Fred. The silence is awkward and no matter what happened between them in the past if Fred asked him to sit with him there is some kind of opening, right? Otherwise they could have just walked past each other.  

Fred is too nice for that.  

"So, you're running for mayor?" F.P. asks, turning his head to look at the other man.  

"Seems right." Fred answers. "With everything going on." 

"Saw Hermione mingling around here." When he turns his head again it's all too easy to see her walking along the aisle. "You two have come a long ways."  

"It's fine."  

F.P. doesn't believe that for a second. "Is it?" 

"You're the worst gossip I've ever known." But Fred isn't scolding or even complaining, not when the amusement in clear in his voice, bring them back to older memories.  

" _Greatest_." He corrects with ease.  

"Do I like running against my ex-girlfriend? No. But I have to try."  

F.P. nods in understanding. "I hate the Lodges so you got my vote."  

"Thanks." The smile he passes to F.P. is genuine. 

"Arch and Jug," Fred starts, "they're..." 

"They'll figure it out." His own feelings towards Archie's loyalty to the Lodges and everything Hiram is doing isn't something he really wants to discuss. Not when it's not positive and while he doesn't believe Fred is in the same position, he's not going to trash his kid to him. Doesn't even bother with Jughead and lets things be as they are. They'll all figure out. Back in his own teen years it's not like he listened to anything anyone said anyhow. Especially not where authority figures were concerned. "We did, kind of."  

"Yeah, kind of."  

The conversation comes to an end when the show starts. He settles into his seat and watches Alice up on that stage. It brings back memories of his own time up there, with her. That's always the most important part in memories such as these, the way that it's always with her.  

Twenty-five years and her grip on him is steel.  

Until it all really goes to shit and what they are all looking at is not something they're supposed to be looking at. His own eyes widen. He's really had enough dead bodies for one lifetime, especially in the past few months.  

"That's not..." F.P. manages to get out once the shock begins to wear off.  

"Supposed to happen, no."  

"I gotta find Jug." He says, standing, just as Alice's scream rings through the air. His gaze lands on Jughead near immediately, but his son is definitely moving towards the stage, rather than away from it. He's probably going to find Betty.  

"I'll go with you. He and Archie are probably backstage."  

F.P. only splits off with Fred when he sees Veronica and Archie are down the hall, Jughead with Betty standing far closer. The two men nod at each other before he's moving towards the pair of teens, glad they are both okay. The nonsense with the Black Hood doesn't exactly make him feel like the kids are safe, and not with how they like to get up to no good more often than not. They couldn't even deal with the whole body dumping thing without getting involved and asking the Sheriff's son of all people. 

"Dad." Jughead says, a relief in his voice. "What are you doing here?" 

"Are you okay?"  

"Yeah, yeah." He nods and turns to Betty who nods at him, forcing a smile on her face. "We're okay." 

"Did you see my mom?" Betty asks, gripping at Jughead's hand, her other hand on his arm, unwilling to be any further away from him than she has to be. "I heard her scream but they wouldn't let me out there."  

"She's with Sheriff Keller."  

"And my dad?" 

"Betty." Hal's voice comes to greet her before F.P. can answer the question. 

Betty doesn't move from where she's holding onto Jughead, even as Hal comes over. "Dad. Where's mom?" 

"She's yelling at Sheriff Keller." He explains. "You know how she gets." Hal turns so he's looking directly at him and Jughead, wordlessly greeting them. 

 "Hal." 

"Mr. Cooper." Jughead greets.  

Other than the time Alice invited he and Jughead over for dinner this is the only time he's ever had any wish that his son could date someone else. Standing there with Hal makes him instantly uncomfortable. He masks it as he turns his head and looks at the chaos all around them. He spots Fred in his own uncomfortable situation as he speaks with Hermione and their kids.  

At least he's not the only one.  

When he turns his head again, however, he's face to face with the sight of Alice coming over. She moves so she's standing next to her husband. "Hal." She greets, forcing a smile. "F.P. I didn't know you were coming."  

"Support the kids and all that." He dismisses as he's definitely not about to have that conversation. Not here, not now, not ever. 

"Dad." Betty says, looking between everyone. "Could you get my stuff from the back? I don't want to go back there." 

"Sure thing, honey." Though Hal is still a bit reluctant to leave.  

"I'll stay with her." Alice assures and that's what gets Ha to move past them.  

"We should go." F.P. says and ignores the burning gaze of Alice.  The last thing he needs is to get stuck in some conversation with her.  

Not that his little plan to get out of there works when Alice grabs at his arm and tugs him a couple steps away from the kids. If they notice anything they make no mention of it and talk between themselves. His face is even as he turns to look at her, but he's struggling to keep anything together. He's mad and upset, mostly at himself, but at her, as well.  

The whole situation is not ideal.  

"You came." Alice finally says, whispering softly, pulling her grip off of him.  

"Yeah," he nods, shrugging his shoulders, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I see you're back with, Hal." 

"You didn't want me."  

That has to be the stupidest thing Alice Cooper has ever said to him but he doesn't say that. He wants to leave, more than anything, he just wants to go home and pretend this entire night didn't happen. "Here." He grabs the card he tucked away in his program, handing it over to her in the pink envelope. 

"What is it?" She asks as she takes it, looking at it for a moment, before she's looking back at him. 

"It's a card. Good luck and whatever."  

"F.P." 

"Goodnight, Alice." He says before this can get any weirder than it already is and he finds himself moving back towards where the kids are. "Come on, Jughead. We're leaving. You can go see Betty first thing in the morning."  

Jughead looks at betty but she nods. "It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow." Betty promises, giving her boyfriend a kiss. 

Hal returns in an event of perfect timing that F.P. isn't even bothering to acknowledge. Rather he follows closely behind Jughead as they make their way out of the back and are once again face to face with the scene on the stage.  

He runs his hand over his face and bites back any emotion. It's not the time.  

Not when Midge's body is right there as dead as the others he's seen recently. 

* * *

He doesn't see Alice until they are all gathered at the funeral for Midge. He's standing between Sheriff Keller and Jughead, watching the casket, trying to avoid looking at Alice. The little family unit of Alice, Betty, and Hal sticks out all too much and he is trying to swallow anything he wants to say. He won't say anything. Because a teenage girl was murdered by the Black Hood at a high school musical but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to.  

The crowd is still gathering when Tom turns to him.  

"And you didn't see anything?" Tom questions.  

He can't help but roll his eyes. He knows that it's his job as Sheriff but it doesn't help that it always feels like he is the one being asked. "Do you think I wouldn't tell you?" 

"You don't have a stellar record, F.P."  

"I don't murder teenagers." It's so paper thin but it's true. He didn't murder Jason and he didn't murder the guy in Alice's living room. He was just someone who happened to get rid of bodies. 

"You aren't a suspect." 

"Are you sure?" There's instant skepticism there but he doesn't think anyone can really  _blame_ him. 

"Unless you know something." 

"I don't know anything. I came in and then I was with Fred until it happened."  

Tom seems to accept that, nodding his head. "Should have led with that." 

"It's a funeral, Sheriff."  

The conversation ends the moment the funeral actual begins. There most of the town stands as some speak and talk about Midge. There are tears and silence. Cheryl is particularly emotional and dramatic, for lack of a better word, and he's not even slightly surprised the cheer uniforms are in all black.  

Some things about that town are just odd in the oddest of circumstances.  

One by one they place white roses on the casket and he can hear the distant sound of Midge's parents crying. He doesn't wish the pain on anyone and has been keeping too close an eye on Jughead ever since it happened. He'll never forgive himself if something happens to his son.  

Jughead and JB are all he truly has left.  

He did manage to have a proper conversation with Gladys after everything. Mostly because he couldn't keep everything with the Black Hood from her even if she didn't ask much about it. Or really anything. It really feels like she's doing her best to leave the Riverdale part of her life in the past. Part of him doesn't blame her but then he looks at Jughead. That kid deserves his mom no matter what.  

It's all complicated. 

When she actually offers to come down there he's a bit taken aback. He declines if only because he's not putting his daughter in the crosshairs of a crazy serial killer, but there's some vague plan about her coming in the future. When they can all figure their shit out and what's going to happen. 

He doesn't tell her about Alice and she never asks about anything personal. All of their conversation is about the kids and mostly, it's filled with long, awkward silences he can do without.  

His marriage is so unresolved but he doesn't think Gladys actually wants to speak with him. It makes him cut the conversation short with a lie that he needs to do something and then he sits on the couch thinking about his entire life for the next hour.  

The sound of the casket finally being lowered into the ground is what breaks him from his thoughts and his eyes wind up lingered on Alice a little too long. She looks back for a brief second, before he drops his gaze to the casket, and lets the funeral finish.  

"Let's go, Jug. You can see Betty later." There's no room for discussion, mostly because he's not risking the chance of actually having to talk to Alice. Not again. Not after the two minutes of Hell at the musical. 

Jughead nods before turning to walk through the grass with his father. "Are you okay, dad?" 

_No_ , is the answer that comes to his mind. "It's a funeral."  

"I..." He starts as he looks over at his dad, "never mind." 

Jughead's always been something of a smart kid so it's not surprising to F.P. when he realizes something is wrong. They don't talk about it though as they make it back home. Rather he focuses on him needing to be at Pop's for the afternoon shift and Jughead's promise to say out of trouble. 

F.P. doesn't believe it. 

He's wiping down the counter at Pop's where he's left mostly to himself and thinking too much. It's quiet. The whole town. It feels unlike itself but he doesn't blame anyone when the Black Hood is running away and the funeral of a teenage girl was a few hours prior. If he didn't have to be there he wouldn't, for a myriad of reasons really.  

Only it doesn't seem to matter much where he is when everything reminds him of Alice. 

When he's at the Whyte Wyrm he thinks about all of their memories there together. From when they were teens to when she was riding him in that chair. It only makes him want to drink and he's really trying not to do that. Even if he's irrationally pissed off at absolutely everything.  

As he wipes the same spot on the counter a thousand times over he only thinks of when she walked in, looking too damn good, and invited him to the musical. He tried not to check her out too obviously but he did. From the snake print shirt, to noticing how far it was unbuttoned, to the black leather. He noted every last part of it and it's burned in his memory. Just like her telling him they were making the same mistakes.  

Of course, they were.  

He wants to think that means Alice going back to Hal is a mistake but perhaps that is nothing more than wishful thinking.  

Even the trailer doesn't offer her any sort of peace. Not when he lays in his bed and thinks of the way she laid there and looked so perfect lost in his bed. He thinks the only true way to get rid of her would be to move but that's not something that is happening.  

F.P. does manage to get through his shift and makes it back to the trailer. When he walks in he notices Betty and Jughead are sitting on the couch. Their voices turn to hushed whispers and he thinks they're talking about something secretive that will definitely get them into trouble. 

He should ask but he doesn't.  

Rather he moves to his room and changes out of the awful uniform and into something normal after he showers so he doesn't smell like fries for the remainder of the night.  

"Your mother know you're here?" F.P asks as he wanders back out into the living room, looking between them both. There are takeout containers all around them and a pizza box. At least they're eating,  _Jughead's_  eating.  

"Yeah." 

F.P. looks between the two of them before he grabs at the handle of the door, accepting it for what it is. It's not Betty's presence that makes him need some air, just the fact that he swears he can feel Alice fucking Cooper right there as if she is.  

"Dad?" 

He turns to his son. "Yeah, Jug?" 

"Nothing." 

F.P. opens the door and knows the conversation with Jughead will be soon approaching. "I don't want you two out there at night with the Black Hood." 

"Where are you going?" 

"Don't worry about It." 

Truthfully, he doesn't even know where he's going until he's driving his motorcycle. He just needs some air, to get out, to breathe, to do something,  _anything_. Something that doesn't involve the kids or Alice or his job or even the Serpents. He loves being a Serpent but he needs some time away from all of it so he can feel right again. Things are too peaceful on that front and its probably only time before things go to shit again.  

He drives the long winding road until he's nearly out in the middle of nowhere. It's nice. A little cold and definitely lonely. Just what he wants as he looks out at the expanse of nothing.  

He kind of wishes she had something to smoke. 

F.P. sits there on his motorcycle for a good twenty minutes before the setting of the sun tells him he should get back. Not that he moves until way after the sun is set and he feels like someone is watching him. It's an uncomfortable feeling and causes a shiver to run down his spine, straight into his arms.  

When he sees the Southside, he's come to love once again, he feels better, until Alice's car is outside.  

He gets off of his motorcycle and takes his helmet off. The motorcycle is too loud to pretend he's not there and he didn't see her. He has to walk forward. There is no choice. Less than no choice. Really, he knows that there is no way he can avoid her forever. It's simply not an option, but that doesn't mean she has to be right outside where he lives.  

There Alice is, leaning against the hood, arms folded as she looks at the trailer door.  

"What are you doing here, Alice?" 

Alice turns, just briefly. "I came to pick up Betty." 

F.P. nods before he walks to the edge of the steps. Any other time he would at least attempt to make some small talk, but her tone is judgement worthy and he's too tired to fight with her. When he was a teenager he did love fighting with her but now, now he doesn't care. The sooner she leaves the sooner he can get on with his life, the life that puts them both on their rightful side of the tracks like she wanted years ago. 

But Alice has other ideas in mind. "Are you ever going to talk to me again?" 

He stops walking, hand on the railing, turning so he can look at her. "What do you want me to say?" 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She bites, standing up straight, letting her hands fall to her sides.  

"Me?" 

"Ever since..." She doesn't say it but they both know what she means.  

He briefly checks the door to make sure Betty isn't coming out of it before he walks towards her. There's some distance left but not enough. "If you wanted to get back at Hal you could have at least told me so I don't feel like a fucking idiot."  

"That's not what it was." 

F.P. puts a hand up, a signal for her to just stop talking. "I don't care what it was, Alice. You're back with Hal." 

"He's my husband." 

"I know that. I have a wife." That he can barely talk to but he has a wife all the same. "It was a mistake." His word chosen on purpose, even if the feeling his gut makes him want to take them back instantly. 

"Do you really feel that way?" She almost sounds hurt. Alice folds her arms, putting on that face she had when he saw her outside of the Andrews house for the first time in so long.  

"Yes." He swallows, barely able to get the word out, it's a lie but one he can stomach if makes things better. He's good at those lies if they're going to make things easier. Never for him. If nothing else his life has proven that absolutely nothing gets easier for him and he's stopped trying to make it that way 

"Wow, okay."  

"We're sixteen again." It's his turn to sound sad, letting his hand drop. "Same spot. Same shit."  

"You are the one who would barely talk to me in the diner. How was I supposed to know you were coming?" 

"I didn't know you'd run back to him the second you could." F.P. shrugs it off as he tries to be cool He can't do this much longer keeping up some semblance of control. Everything is rising within him and he wants to yell. At her. At himself. At everything. But he knows the kids would hear him and he's at least trying to be decent. "It doesn't matter. We're not in a musical. We're not going to sing some song and be fine."  

Alice's silence is long as her arms come to fold across her chest again. She's watching him, carefully, pain flashing across her features as quickly as his own. "What song would you sing?"  

F.P. rolls his eyes and he walks back to the front door, which opens to Betty coming out.  

"F.P. wait." 

"Go home, Alice." He grounds it out as he passes Betty, giving her a far friendlier look. 

"Do you two need a minute?" Betty asks as she looks between the two. 

"No." F.P. dismisses with ease. They really don't. 

"Mom." 

Alice ignores her daughter. "You didn't answer my question."  

He almost doesn't but as he walks past Betty and up the steps to the door he turns, briefly, looking at Alice. "Heart Shaped Box."  

It registers instantly and she turns to her daughter. Everything about Alice is as classic as it comes. "Come on, Betty. Your father is waiting."  

He doesn't wait for the car to start before he's inside and leaning against the door. Jughead pulls his gaze from his phone and to his father, as F.P. lets out a breath.  

"Don't." F.P. says before Jughead even gets the chance to ask. "Just don't."  

* * *

F.P. tries his hardest to not seem like something is bothering him. He's not drinking but that just means his attitude is questionable and he's gone through more gum than any one person should in such a short amount of time. He's a bit of an ass, or a lot of an ass, and creates friction between him and almost everyone he knows.  

He's never been all that stellar at processing his emotions and that hasn't proved to change all that much. 

But he does manage to swallow it down with his son.  

If nothing else he does not want to fracture the relationship with his son again. Not when things were so horrible between them for so long. He's not sliding backwards. No matter what. 

"Dad," Jughead asks, broaching the subject carefully, as they sit for dinner one night "did something happen between you and Mrs. Cooper?" 

He looks over at his son with a narrowed gaze. He knows something. Expected and yet, he isn't too sure what he feels about that given everything. If he knows the truth Jughead isn't showing it and he suspects that he doesn't know the actual truth given that he's not mad.  

"Betty told me about you two together in high school." Jughead continues when F.P. doesn't answer him. "Alice told her after she found out her dad isn't Chic's dad."  

Given the wording F.P. thinks neither of them have quite figured out who Chic's father is and he's keeping it that way. For now. No need to add anything. How neither of them have managed to figure out who Chic's father is if they were together in high school is beyond him, or maybe they are waiting for either of them to confirm it. 

"She used to be a Serpent, you knew each other in high school. The musical..." Jughead continues on as he waits for F.P. to say anything. "Betty said things seemed tense between you when she left the other night."  

F.P. stands then as he doesn't look at his son. "Leave it alone, Jug."  

* * *

When F.P. isn't working he is usually in the bar. He was up in the office for most of the day actually getting something done and making it so the Serpents seemed a hair less of a rebel gang. Of course, that's exactly what they are but he tries to make it look good sometimes.  

_Sometimes_.  

Really, he needs to distract himself for the time being. 

It's nearing noon when he steps down the stairs and into the mostly empty bar. It'll be filled with people soon enough, from work, school, and everything else. For now, he takes the soft silence.  

Until he hears the door open and not long after that he sees Alice storming towards him. Her blonde curls are bouncing as she does and she stops in front of him. There's no concept of personal space and anyone can note the fury on her face.  

"How dare you."  

"Alice." He greets calmly, for the fact that he truly does not know what exactly she is mad at him for and oh, she is definitely mad.  

She shoves him and he stumbles back, caught off guard by the action. 

"You think you know everything." 

F.P. stands up straight and keeps his own irritation in check if hers is going to be off the charts. Otherwise it'll end up chaos in there and that's not what they need right now. "What are you talking about?"  

"We're not sixteen anymore." She swallows, glaring at him. "Things are different." 

"It's fine, Alice. I know why you went back to him." 

"No, you don't. You think you know. You always did that. You think you know."  

"Then tell me. What don't I know?" 

She shook her head, swallowing. "You have no idea what it's been like for me." She tries not to cry but it's the crack in her voices that give her away. "You have no idea what I've lost." 

"And you think I have everything." It's deadpan. "You think I haven't lost anything? Get your head out of your ass, Alice."  

"Shut up, FP." She bites, blinking to not let the tears fall. "Polly doesn't speak to me, Betty has been pulling away for months, I sent Chic way, he won't answer my calls, and you and Hal both run the second you can. I'm alone. All the time. I lose everything."  

"You think I was running from you? It was one conversation Alice and you went back to Hal the second you could. I was an ass, yeah, and I'm sorry, but I'm not doing this. Not now. Not after everything." It's his turn to swallow back the emotion attempting to seep out. 

"I want my marriage to work." 

"Do you?" He accuses more than he asks. "Hal was fucking Penelope Blossom, wasn't he? Cheating on you without a care in the damn world. Left because of Chic, hates the kid." He shakes his head. "It's your bullshit little fantasy but if you want it. I don't care. Go back home and stay there." 

"We've been together twenty-five years." 

"Do you want a card? A gift?" 

"F.P. you're just like you were." The tear falls then, crossing her arms over her chest, everything about her soft and sad. 

"I am? Alice, you act like you're the only person in all of Riverdale who has ever lost anything. I didn't even know I had a son because of you. I learn I have a son and then I can't even fucking see him because he's God knows where. I don't get to see my daughter and if you don't think that kills me every fucking minute of every fucking day you know shit about me." He inhales sharply, blinking back his own years. "We've all lost shit and I've been through more hell in the last twenty-five years than you can even imagine. But don't come in here and act like I'm being unreasonable. It's fine. You want to go back to him? Just do it but the leave me out of it. I can't watch this. I just  _can't_ , Allie."  

Alice isn't trying to hold anything back anymore as she wipes a fallen tear away. "We weren't ready to be parents and you know that." 

"I bury a fucking body for you. Not the kids, not because of Serpent loyalty, but for you. And you didn't have the balls to tell me I had a kid, that I was burying a body for that kid." It's a bad time for the emotions of it all to come up again, but he never pretended he was over it. He is just as upset as when she first told him.  

"I already apologized for that." 

"Yeah, well it turns out I'm still fucking pissed." He runs his hands through his hair. "I don't want you want from me Alice. I just don't you." 

"I want you to care." She nearly yells, taking a step forward, but keeping her hands to herself this time. 

He stays silent as she cries and he wants to reach out to her. He wants to hold her and tell her that things will be okay but he doesn't know that. Given that it's Riverdale it feels like that is nothing but a lie. The town is Hell more than it's not. "You think I don't care?" He whispers, reaching out, resting his hand on her cheek as he finds he can't be as cold as he wants to be. 

"I don't know, F.P." She murmurs through her sniffles. "I'm just so... _lost_."  

"I care too damn much. I want to hold on and never let go." His other hand reaches for her own. "That's all I've ever wanted. For us to...work and to not feel like we're fighting against fate at every fucking turn. We have one moment of happiness and then it's twenty moments of pain." 

Alice nods in understanding as she squeezes his hand, taking one last step forward.  

"I hate seeing you cry and I hate seeing you in pain." F.P. whispers. "I don't want either of us to feel like this." 

She takes a step back so she's sitting on the edge of the barstool, taking him with her. "I constantly feel like one wrong move and It's going to fall apart. With everything, F.P." She whispers as a few more tears fall and the pain is evident. "Everything is slipping is so far and all I want is my family." 

"You have your family." It kills him to say it, kills him the way he knows he isn't it. They share a son but they're not a family. Maybe they once were but now, it's Hal that is the one that is supposed to be making her feel better. She should be crying to him and he should say some nice things like he did a thousand times before. Not that he asks why Alice is there with him, not when they both know. But knowing what they know doesn't change anything. "I think you need to go home. Be with Hal and Betty."  

"Is that what you want?"  

"I want to know that when we're together there are no what ifs. But it's not right now." F.P. knows he should be hopeful that her marriage won't fall apart but he's not that big of a person at the moment. He wishes he could tell her to tell her husband to go fuck himself but he doesn't. All he can do is put some message of hope out into the all too shitty universe and see where all of the cards fall. "I don't want you to look at me and think about what could have been." 

"I don't." She promises. "I don't, _really_." 

"You might." He closes his eyes, swallowing, unable to look at her when she's looking at him like that. "You chose him for a reason." 

"To get out of the Southside."  

"Then you should get out of the Southside." He pulls his hand back and crosses his arms over his chest so he's not tempted to touch her again. 

Alice nods as she stands up and brushes her tears away. She lets out a breath and takes a moment to compose herself.   

"I can't hurt Jug and you can't hurt Betty." 

"You're right." She nods once more as she adjusts her jacket, pulling it tighter around him. "You're right. I know it."  

"I have to tell Jughead everything. If you don't tell Betty, he will, but the choice is yours." He knows that he should be taking a step back rather than forward and he definitely should not have his hands resting on her cheeks. He places a kiss on her forehead, one that lingers for a few seconds too long, eyes closed, taking in the moment. "You should go."  

"Okay." She stands, fixing herself, she's standing in front of him. "I meant my apology. I want to be here for the Southside." 

F.P. nods as he pulls back and his hands fall to his side. "You're always welcome here, Alice." 

Alice forces a smile on her face, one last look, before she a few steps. She stops to lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, F.P." 

* * *

That night F.P. has to psych himself up to actually go home and tell Jughead everything. He knows he has to make good on it though. He deserves to know no matter what. 

When he steps into the trailer Jughead isn't there yet and he grabs some water and downs it like it actually does anything for him. Force of habit, maybe.  

Jughead comes home and F.P. almost decides to not and just let Betty tell him, if Alice actually does tell her. That's unfair to everyone and he can't hide from this forever.  

"Sit down. Jug." He tells him, a softer tone than he usually uses as he walks out of the kitchen to the living room, sitting in the chair opposite the couch.  

Jughead looks at him suspiciously but ultimately sits. "Dad, what is it?" 

He's ran the speech throughout his head a million times and no matter what it doesn't come out decent. Not when he is pretty damn sure his son is going to end up hating him and he's not sure what to do about that since he's already been there. More than once. He taps his foot against the floor as he stares at the very same floor.  

"I'm Chic's father." Better to blurt it out than anything else. It comes all too fast and he doesn't look at Jughead until the news it out. "Alice and I were together in high school and...recently." 

"Wait, Chic is my brother?" Jughead's tone is displeased, to put it nicely.  

"Yes." 

"And  **Betty's** brother?" He stands up and starts pacing. "And you were... **together**? What about Mom?" 

"Son, your mom left."  

"That doesn't mean you screw Betty's mom." Jughead's voice rises as he looks at his father, eyes wide and hurt, confusion everywhere else.  

"Watch it." 

Jughead lets out a breath as he keeps pacing, muttering stuff to himself. "I have to go." 

F.P. knows exactly where he is going to go and as much as he wants to stop him Jughead will just sneak out given the chance. "Give Alice a chance to tell Betty." His hands are clasped in front of him. "This doesn't have to change anything." 

"She's had chances."  

"I mean it, boy." The firm fatherly voice booms out. "Don't use this an excuse." 

"Okay." Jughead nods as he pulls on his Serpent jacket. He puts his hand on the door but turns back so he's looking at his father. "You two...aren't? Because her parents are together." 

"No. We're... _friends_." That feels like a lie but the technical truth all in one. He's never been good at just being Alice's friend.  

"And Chic?" 

"I'm still processing myself." F.P. admits to that and he's kind of glad he hasn't seen Chic since, unsure what the hell he'd even say. 

"Did you know?" 

"Not until recently." 

"When Betty was here?" Jughead's tone is only growing louder. "When  _did_ Mrs. Cooper tell you?"  

"The day you saw us in the Whyte Wyrm."  

Jughead opens the door a little more forcefully, tuning back. "That was before the musical." He lets out a huff, unmistakable, not hidden. "I can't look at you." 

"You see Betty and you come back. Non-negotiable." 

"Fine." Is all Jughead says before he slams the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song F.P. mentions is Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana and using West Side Story for Falice musical in high school was taken from Roberto posting a kind of blurry, but readable picture of one of the posters on the wall, so I kind of assumed that was what is meant to be the one they did back in the day.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/) \+ [twitter.](https://twitter.com/laurelsalexis)


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